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Talking with Kimber Vale/Giveaway

Hi, my name is Kimber, and I am a do-it-myselfer. Superficially, that
sounds pretty damn awesome, right? I save money. I proudly show off the
bathroom light switch I replaced when my friends come over. Yeah, I power
washed and painted my own deck, dug our fish pond out by hand, and sewed the
cloth napkins that wipe the mouths of approximately six families I can think of
offhand.

The problem for the consummate do-it-yourselfer is that sometimes you
get overwhelmed with all the crap you wouldn’t dream of paying someone else to
do. And it isn’t that we can’t afford it. It’s this twisted thing inside that
won’t allow me to call someone else to do something I’m smart enough to do and
physically capable of. I think that being a stay at home mom for a number of years
has made me value my time less and feel like a penny saved is a penny that I,
personally, have earned.

The thing is, since I started writing in earnest, my time has become
tremendously valuable to me.

I look at the pair of pajama pants my husband wanted me to put a
button fly on and I laugh and drop them in the giveaway pile.

Change the broken faucet in the kitchen? I can figure that shit out.
I’ve got all the tools. I bought a replacement and opened the instructions.
They didn’t scare me too badly. Of course the estimated 90 minutes it would
take to do it (provided the stars are all aligned, and trust me, the stars are
never fucking aligned. Ever) now that scared me. New faucet sits in the box in
my family room at the moment, waiting for me to have at least half a day to
dedicate to it (and a plumber’s number at the ready). We just keep living with
the wonky broken faucet.

I can organize my own blog tours. Why wouldn’t I? For this one, my
accountant hubs even showed me how to make a spread sheet to replace my crazy
paper version (don’t laugh—I see you laughing at me). So, I even learned a new
trick. Bam!

But as I agonize over my messy handwriting and worry that I’ve
forgotten to mark something down. As I write blog post after blog post after
blog post I start to wonder if maybe next time around I take the pay-someone
route.

The problem is I like to be in control. I realize that, accept it, and
work within my personal issues to live happily. But being in control of
everything sure takes a lot of time and energy. I tell myself that it’s
non-negotiable, though; something that must be done, come hell or high water.
Come late nights and scratchy eyeballs, I need to do this blog tour thing. It’s
my job. Suck it up and get through to the next step, Kimber.

My lead character in Double Takes, Gio Savale, is much the same in
that respect. He finds himself in a number of distasteful situations (not that
writing blog posts is distasteful, mind you ;-) but Gio does whatever it takes
to try to find a happy ending. He needs money and takes a job he doesn’t like.
He has to be home to show that he’s a reliable parent, so he puts off touring
for a year. Gio’s motto is “Do it for Marco. Make the grade and get paid,” all
in the name of love for his son. When Gio’s boyfriend, Lance, insists on
lending him money so he can buy his way out of his television show contract,
Gio is really uncomfortable about it. He convinces his manager to book them for
a week long local tour so he can pay Lance back ASAP. He may be a famous rock
star, but he’s a pretty righteous dude.

I wish my motives were so noble. Nah. I just want to be able to brag
on Facebook that I installed my own faucet.

Someday…

Blurb:

Ah, the life of a rock star. Everyone thinks it’s nothing but sex,
drugs, and rock and roll.

Not for Giovanni Savale.

For the lead singer of Three Deaf Mice, a band that reached its
pinnacle in the late nineties, it’s nothing but an ugly divorce with a custody
battle, money trouble, and now the nightmare exposure of starring in a reality
television show. When his producer decides to cash in on an infamous interview
Gio did years ago, and give the self-confessed bisexual rocker an onscreen
boyfriend, things really hit the fan. Gio is certain his sexual experimentation
back in his drug-abusing days meant nothing — after all he’s been married for
nine years, clean and sober for nearly as long, and he has a son. And Gio is
not remotely attracted to Kyrie, the funny, flamboyant actor they choose for
his love interest. Of course, Lance Garrett, the mysterious and sexy owner of
the local antique shop, Double Takes, is a whole different story. The guy has
Gio planning out a future he never imagined. With the threat of losing all
custody of his ten-year-old son, ghosts from the past returning for revenge,
and the cameras rolling, can Gio keep his head above water and his heart from
getting broken?

Excerpt:

Lance’s hand on top of his stopped Gio from silencing the irritating
voice.

Gio sat down heavily next to Lance, one hand still burdened by his
dinner plate and the other sandwiched between Lance’s palm and the remote. He
didn’t dare pull it away, and Lance apparently wanted to see the entire
commercial because he kept Gio trapped there until it finished.

“What was that all about?” Lance’s warm fingers slid from Gio’s,
leaving his hand cold.

“The producers took some stupid poll and found out the viewers want to
see me…” Gio paused in search of the right word. What the hell did people want
to see? “They wanna see me squirm. They want to see a supposedly bisexual man
drowning in the same-sex dating pool. It’s all bullshit—just for ratings.”

“So, you’re not really dating that guy?”

“No! Well, yeah, I have to for the show. But not really. It’s just a
publicity stunt, you know?”

“So, you aren’t bi, then?” Lance cocked his head and skewered Gio with
those intense hazel eyes.

“Yeah! No! I mean … it’s not like I…” What the fuck was he even trying
to say? You’ve screwed around with guys
before, ass munch.

The confused squint of the eyes staring back at him—moss-green with
spikes of brown radiating from his pupils—told Gio his answer didn’t exactly
make sense to Lance, either.

“I always wondered if those rumors were true before you got married.”
Lance made it sound like a question.

“Well, you know how it is … when you’re young, and you party too much.
Sometimes you do shit you wouldn’t normally do if you weren’t fucked up,
right?” Gio gave a weak laugh.

Lance’s face was introspective and finally he shook his head. “When I
was young and I partied too much, I never ended up in bed with a woman, so no …
I don’t know.”

Hold the fucking
phone. Something skipped inside Gio’s chest. It was nauseating and
exhilarating all at once. Like a rollercoaster when it crests the top of a
hill. He knew he was about to drop, he craved the intoxicating free fall, but
was scared shitless at the same time.

Lance placed his dinner on the coffee table and turned to Gio.

What is going on?
How do I even respond to that?

“So…?” Gio began, but then Lance’s right hand wrapped around his neck
and pulled him closer to those amazing eyes, his mouth closer to Lance’s
flawless one.

Lips, soft yet firm and unbelievably full, pressed to Gio’s and his
eyelids dropped like they were weighted. Fingers carded the hair at the back of
his head and lured him to kiss back. Or maybe it was the faint spicy smell Gio
now associated with Lance that made his lips pucker and nibble against the
other guy’s delicious mouth. Gio detected a hint of lemon poppy seed dressing
as he sucked a voluptuous bottom lip between his own.

Lance’s tongue darted out to lick Gio’s closed mouth, and Gio opened
to suck in a surprised breath. Gio’s tongue had a will of its own. It touched
Lance’s wet tip and they swirled together, exploring each other’s taste,
marking new territory in the other’s domain.

A low rumble came from somewhere; Gio wasn’t sure if it was he or
Lance who groaned. He wanted to grab the man sitting next to him, wanted to
slide his hand up the inseam of his jeans and stroke his dick into dripping
hardness. Gio’s own cock was filling, twitching against the constraints of his
pants with each meeting of their tongues.

Oh my God, what
the hell am I doing? Nothing about this kiss—hot slippery tongues meshing and
soft bristles tickling his cheeks—nothing about it was like his memories of
other men. Those were hazy and unreal and this was vibrant—electric. His
conscience had long ago associated those fleeting, drugged sexual acts with
perversion. He had swept them under the carpets of history along with his
ancient addictions. But this kiss didn’t make him think of sinfulness and
mistakes. It felt right, like nothing before ever had. It flooded his senses
and his prick and had him aching for more, everything Lance had.

Gio pulled away from his thoughts and from Lance’s lips. His breath
came in shallow gasps that exposed him as much as the bulge in his pants did.
Lance slid his warm hand off Gio’s neck and took a shaky inhalation. Gio
swallowed hard as he swiped his hair back with trembling fingers. His plate was
still in the other hand, tilting precariously but fortunately not dumped all over
the floor. He set it down on the table just as a cheer went up on the
television.

The Red Sox had scored a home run. I
only got to first base, but man I was close to dropping to my knees and
knocking this one out of the park. What the fuck?

Lance took a long pull off his water. Gio watched him out of the
corner of his eye while he pretended to be enraptured by Big Papi jogging the
bases. He had no clue what he should do or say. I’m not really into guys didn’t seem at all right anymore. Lance
made it easy for him.

“Hey, sorry about that. I didn’t mean to freak you out. Just wanted to
give you something to think about and you can get back to me on it.” He gave a
half smile that was sexy as hell.

Kimber Vale writes romance of all stripes, from hot hetero stories to
mouthwatering men falling in love (under the name K. Vale). Keep up with
Kimber’s news and follow all her tour stops on her blog:
http://www.kimbervale.meand
friend/follow her on Facebook and Twitter @KimberVale. Come for the sex. Stay
for the story.

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